DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. OBVIOUSLY. LIKE DUH….LOL

MORE ADAM LOVE COMING UP FOR ALL OF YOU PEANUT LOVERS!

SPECIAL THANKS TO AFROZENHEART412 AND HER REVIEW TWO CHAPTERS BACK FOR THE TITLE!


Becoming Mr Don Ross

"Like a cloud full of rain shouldn't hang in the sky
Ice shouldn't burn or a bumble bee fly
If you feel so happy, then why do you cry?
Oh, nothin' 'bout love makes sense
Like an ocean liner shouldn't float on the sea
A pearl in an oyster or a circus of fleas
Someone so perfect can't be fallin' for me
Oh nothin' 'bout love makes sense

Nothin' 'bout love is less than confusin'
You can win when you're losin'
Stand when you're fallin'
I can't figure it out
Nothin' 'bout love can make an equation
Nothin' short of amazin'
Wish I could explain it
But I didn't know how

The way that we dance
The reason we dream
That big Italian tower
Oh, how does it lean?
Somethin' so strong shouldn't make me this weak
Oh, nothin' 'bout love makes sense

Like the lights of Las Vegas glowin' out of the sand
A jumbo shrimp or a baby grand
How you touch my heart when you hold my hand
Oh, nothin' 'bout love makes sense."
-Nothing 'Bout Love Makes Sense, LeAnn Rimes


This is definitely my idea of a vacation, Flack thought, as he lay stretched across the impossibly comfortable suede sofa in the living room of the hotel suite, clad in a ratty, faded NYPD academy t-shirt and a pair of Adidas athletic shorts, the remote control for the television balancing on his stomach and an open bottle of beer sitting on the floor within reach. He was in no rush to get showered and dressed. It was shortly before noon and he had no plans to even step foot outside of the room until later in the afternoon. Las Vegas never closed, and with three days and night left to hit the casinos and indulge his girlfriend by taking her to the hot clubs she was dying to hit up, he was making the most of his quiet time. Even if that time consisted of nothing more than hanging out and being a lazy ass.

After a massive breakfast delivered by room service that he and Sam had devoured while sitting in the middle of their rumbled, well used bed, she'd hit the shower to get ready to her day out with Jess, and he'd busied himself with gathering up the dirty dishes and placing them on the room service cart that he'd then rolled out into the hallway. And then, when the buzzing of the hair dryer sounded in the bathroom, he'd hurriedly grabbed the business card he'd been given yesterday out of his dirty jeans and got on the phone to begin the first stage of his covert operation. While they had talked about, and decided on, getting engaged, he didn't want her knowing when and where it was going to happen. It was extremely important that the moment was a complete surprise.

And that it was perfect.

His attention was diverted from the ball game playing on tv as Sam stepped around the entertainment unit that served as a divider between the living area and the sleeping quarters. She looked years younger with no makeup gracing her features, and was fresh and vibrant in a spaghetti strapped sundress that skimmed her the top of her knees and bore lime green, vibrant yellow and white diagonal stripes. Lime green ballet flats and a small white leather purse completed her ensemble, and she carried a large white plastic barrette in one hand and a pair of yellow hoop earrings in the other.

She cast a glance at the television and groaned. "Baseball?" she asked, and walking over to the couch, plopped down on the edge. "Isn't it too early for baseball? I thought that didn't start until April."

"It doesn't," Flack told her. "This is the grapefruit league."

She arched an eyebrow and stared at him, awaiting clarification.

"Spring training," he explained, reaching out to softly rub the small of her back. "In Florida. ESPN shows the games. Mets are winning three one in the bottom of the second against the Cubs."

"Hmmm…" she dropped the earrings on the coffee table and pushing her hair away from her face and gathering it at the nape of her neck, secured it with the barrette. "Well if it's in Florida shouldn't it be called the orange league?" she asked.

"What?" Flack stared at her, perplexed.

"You just said it's the grapefruit league," she told him.

"That's what it's called, babe."

"Isn't Florida known for producing oranges? It's the sunshine state right? If they're known for oranges then shouldn't it be called the orange league as opposed to the grapefruit league?"

"You're kidding right?" he chuckled. "Are we actually having this conversation?"

"I just think calling it the grapefruit league is stupid," she said with a shrug. "Actually, naming it after any kind of fruit is just plain stupid. Why'd they ever do that? Who would name it after produce?"

"I don't know, Sammie…" he sighed exasperatedly. "They just call it that, okay? I don't know why and I don't care to know why. That's what it's been called for decades. It's just a name."

"Well it's stupid," she declared. "Naming something after a piece of fruit. What period did you say it was in?"

He bit his bottom lip and ran a hand over his face. "Innings, babe. They're called innings. Periods are in hockey."

"Innings, periods, whatever…"

"Are you sure you went to Dartmouth?" Flack teased. "Are you sure that that's a real diploma back home? That you have a masters in a legit program? That you didn't earn it in something like underwater door slamming or basket weaving as opposed to…"

"Very funny," she grumbled, and leaning over him, kissed him softly. "So I'm baseball illiterate," she said with a sigh.

"Well what you lack in sporting knowledge you make up for in unbelievable hotness," he chided, then laughed as she pinched his side playfully.

"So are you telling me that I'm not only a Rangers widow but I'm also a Mets widow?" she asked in mock horror.

He nodded.

"I guess that means it's a good thing I'm not above looking for 'outside help' when you're otherwise detained," she said, and gave him a wink.

"Outside help? What's that suppose to mean? Like a boyfriend or something?"

"Or something," she laughed. "Give me a break, Donnie. You seriously think I'm going to get myself a boy toy on the side because of your hockey and baseball obsessions? I mean outside help as in paying a visit to that Hidden Treasures store on Lafayette."

"Isn't that a sex store?" he asked curiously, his eyes riveted on the television.

"Uh…yeah…hence the words outside help…" she wiggled her eyebrows as she leaned over him once again and dropped a kiss on his chin.

He grinned, his hand resting on the small of her back as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and nuzzled his ear before laying her head on his shoulder. "You are one dirty little girl, Sammie. What would mommy and daddy ever say if they knew all about your penchant for handcuffs and using food as a sexual prop? Not to mention all of them naughty little undies you like to wear so much."

"Oh they know all about me being slightly twisted," she said. "I wonder what your mommy and your daddy would say if they knew how much you let me use and abuse you for my own personal gratification?"

"Well my mom, who I swear thinks the only time people should have sex is for procreation, would probably tell me I'm going to hell in a hand basket and that I should get on my knees and repent. And my old man…well he'd slap me on the back and congratulate me and then buy me a beer and ask me to spill all the tricks of my trade."

Sam laughed and kissed him once more before sitting up. "There is something so disturbing about the thought of you and your father sitting in a bar talking about sex," she declared, and reaching for her earrings, slipped one, then the other into her ears and secured them tightly with their butterfly backs.

"Well he has to live vicariously through someone. He's got three kids. That's three times in the past thirty one years that we know for sure of that's he's actually gotten himself some."

"You're slightly delusional if you think your parents have only had sex three times. And your mom…well we both know about her extra curricular activities so she's not as innocent and prudish as she lets on. Who knows? Maybe deep down, underneath the frigid, nasty bitch personality of hers, she's actually a total wild child between the sheets."

Flack grimaced. "Sammie…I'd like to keep my breakfast down, okay? Don't say things like that about my mother. I'll have nightmares for a month now."

"I am just saying…" she said, and picking up her purse, unzipped it and pulled out a tube of strawberry flavoured lip gloss. "So…" she uncapped the gloss and glided it over her lips. "Out of sheer curiosity, baby…"

Flack stared at her expectantly.

"You're not actually going to spend our entire vacation lying on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt, drinking beer and watching sports, are you?" she inquired.

"And if I am?" he asked.

"You could have stayed home to do that," she said. "We're in Las Vegas. There's tons of things to see and do here. Outside of the room."

"I thought we were having an amazing time inside," he chuckled. "I don't exactly hear you complaining or protesting at the time."

"We can just spend our entire vacation looked in our room having sex," she said.

"Why not? It's our favourite past time. And we're good at it…" he winked at her and stroked the small of her back. "Really, really good at it. It's our vacation and our money. We can do whatever we want with it. And if we want to stay in the room the entire time and do nothing but f…"

"I feel whorish, okay?" she interrupted angrily. "I feel like it's the only thing that you're interested in. That the only value I have in your life is what you can get out of me sexually. And don't get me wrong…I love sex. I love every aspect of it. But I just…I hate feeling that that is the only thing that you're genuinely interested in sometimes."

"Samantha, you're an insanely beautiful and sexy woman. Don't you think if I didn't want to have sex with you that would be the more serious problem? What's wrong with us being in this sort of honeymoon stage?"

"Nothing's wrong with it. I just…when we have it that much I start to feel…"

"Whorish. I heard you the first time. What the hell makes you feel like that? 'Cause we enjoy sex together? 'Cause we have it more then the average couple? That makes you feel whorish? You're having sex on a regular basis with ONE person. Not a whole shit load of people. It shouldn't make you feel whorish. It should make you feel…wanted."

"And it does," she said. "You make me feel wanted. And loved. And safe and secure and a whole bunch of other feelings that no one has ever made me feel. But at the same time I feel like there's nothing more to me and you then that. And I don't want to feel that way. I want to know that there's more to us, as a couple, then just sex. I want us to do things together. Go on dates and stuff like that. I want us to sit and talk for hours and just enjoy each other's company. Without us always ending up in bed. I don't think that's too much to ask."

"I wouldn't have brought you to Las Vegas and spent this kind of money on you…on us…if there wasn't more to our relationship than sex, Sammie. Maybe I just like being alone with you. Maybe I'm just a selfish bastard that way. And maybe to me, in my piggish mind, being alone equals sex. I don't know. But I'm not going to apologize for being insanely attracted to you and for wanting you as much as I do. I am sorry that you feel that way sometimes. And if you want to take a step back from that side of our relationship…"

"I don't want to take a step back from anything," she argued. "I just want us to…I want us to balance every aspect of us. And lately it hasn't seemed like we were doing that. How often do we actually go out, Donnie? I'm not talking about this trip. I'm talking about when we're home. How often to do we do things as a couple?"

"I don't know…" he shrugged.

"Don't you find that a little disturbing that you don't know?"

"We work a lot, Sammie. Both of us. We work long and crazy and punishing hours. We live together but there's times we're lucky if we see each other for fifteen minutes during an entire day. If we're not working the same shifts, we're not seeing each other at all. I'm coming when you're going. There isn't a lot of time for us to do things. And when we do find the time…"

"We end up spending an entire day in bed," she finished.

"And there's something wrong with that? There's something wrong with us wanting each other? What the hell…" he took a deep breath and shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair. "What the hell is this about, babe? Why do you pick fights like this? What goes through your head that you just come out with stuff like this? I don't know how many times you expect me to tell you I love you. That I want to spend my life with you. I'm not Danny. Who is constantly reassuring Lindsay about how he feels because of her own insecurities. No one should have to say it over and over again. The first ten times should be enough."

"This isn't about me not knowing that you love me," Sam told him. "I know you love me. That isn't what's in question here, Don."

"You just said…"

"I just said that I want to feel valued. I want to feel that we have more in common then just a mutual interest in getting each other off. I want us to do things together. Couple things. I want to go to movies with you and actually watch the movie. I want to walk through Central Park hand in hand. I want us to go to dinner and flirt over dessert. I want us to one night just lie in each other's arms and just enjoy each other's presence. I want to feel you kiss me and touch me outside of sex. I just want us to be…I don't know…I just want us to be more than what we are."

"And what are we Sam? In your eyes what are we? Fuck buddies?"

"Don't turn this into something ugly," she said. "You know that I don't see us that way."

"What more do you want from me?" Flack asked. "What more do you want me to say? How many times do I have to pledge my undying love and devotion to you?"

"It's not about saying it!" she cried. "It's about showing it!"

He nodded slowly as her words sank in.

"I love you and you love me. We tell each other all of the time. And we know we're both sincere about it. But sometimes…sometimes wouldn't it be nice to not have to say it? To just be able to feel it? Don't you ever think that way, Donnie? Don't you ever wish I'd show it more? That you could tell how much I love you without me having to say the actual words?"

"I've never thought about it," he admitted.

"We're both so good at saying it but not so good at showing it," she said. "It goes both ways with us. So I'm not saying it's just you, okay? I'm trying to not be so clingy and possessive and you're trying to be more affectionate and attentive. Maybe we're inadvertently working against each other."

"Maybe…who knew that being in this kind of relationship would be this goddamn confusing."

"This kind of relationship?" she asked with a grin.

"Yeah…this kind of relationship. The kind where you love someone so much you can't think straight. Where it's all consuming. Where all you do is worry about is what your life would be like without them that you stop appreciating what your life is like with them. All I know is that I want forever with you. I want you as my wife and a couple of kids. The house in the suburbs and the mini van and the…"

"The mini van?" she laughed. "That's taking things a little too far."

"I do love you, Sammie. And maybe I do suck at showing it. But I'm not afraid to say it and that has to count for something."

"It does…" she said, and pressed a kiss to his forehead as she combed her fingers through his hair. "And I'm sorry if it seems like I don't appreciate you or I don't…"

He laid a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her into him for a long, tender kiss. "Let's just both admit we've got some things we need to work on and leave it at that."

Smiling, she gave a nod and pecked the end of his nose. "You just want me to shut up so you can get back to your orange league baseball," she teased, running a hand softly over his face, clearing shimmering lip gloss off his lips with her thumb before sitting up.

He rolled his eyes, and picking up his bottle of beer, took a large swig. "You're going to be the death of me, Sammie. Or at least be the one solely responsible for sending me into an institution."

"I keep you on your toes," she said, rubbing his stomach affectionately. "Think how dull and boring your life would be without me in it."

He couldn't argue with her on that point.

"I need to go," she told him, as she consulted the watch on her right wrist. "Jess is meeting me downstairs in ten minutes."

"You've got the keys to the rental car?"

She nodded. "Be a good boy, okay? I don't want to catch word of you throwing wild parties in here while I'm gone. And if I dare find any strange thongs or g-strings under the bed or any nipple tassels lying about…"

"I promise you I will clear away any evidence that the strippers were here," he teased. "You be good, too. No maxing out the credit cards."

"Ruin all my fun," she pouted. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Seven o'clock at the East Chapel for the rehearsal," he confirmed. "I'll be there. And who knows, maybe I'll have a licence and wedding bands of our own and we can talk the minister into making it a two for one event."

"That wouldn't be such a bad thing," she said. "Would it?"

"To go back to New York City married?" he asked.

Sam nodded.

"It would shock a hell of a lot of people. But would it be a bad thing? No. Absolutely not."

She smiled and kissed him a final time. "How about we put some bling on this first…" she held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. "…and then we'll worry about what comes after that."

"What's that old nursery rhyme?" Flack asked, his eyes sparkling playfully as she stood up. "First comes love, the comes marriage, then comes someone pushing a baby carriage?"

"Bite your goddamn tongue!" she scolded as she hurried for the door.

"Hey!" he yelled, just as he heard her snap open the dead bolt.

She poked her head out into the foyer.

"I love you, Sammie. Don't ever doubt that, okay?"

She smiled. "I love you, too," she said, and pressing a kiss to the tips of her index and middle finger, wiggled them at him. "I'll see you later."

"Have fun, babe," he called to her, and then laughed heartily as she began to sing on her way out the door. A song that was clearly meant to drill a message into his head.

"If you liked it than you should have put a ring on it, if you liked it you should have put a ring on it. Don't be mad once you see that he want it, if you liked it you should have put a ring on it."

Flack grinned as the door clicked close behind her, leaving him in the silence of their hotel suite. Reaching into the pocket of his shorts, he pulled out the business card and flipped it over. His eyes falling on the appointment time for three thirty that afternoon.

Three more hours, he thought. Until I take the first step on the greatest adventure of my entire life.


"This is the last place I expected to be on my holidays," Jess declared, looking out the front passenger window of the rental sedan as Sam pulled into the public lot behind the Las Vegas Crime Lab.

Three hours into their afternoon out and she was completely exhausted. A disgusting amount of bags from various boutiques on the Strip and the outlet stores they'd spent the majority of their time scouring at the massive shopping centre just on the outskirts of town littered the back seat and the floor. Her feet throbbed and she'd long ago kicked off her strappy black heels in favour of a pair of two dollar neon pink flip flops she's snagged out of a bin at the 7-11 Sam and her had stopped at to grab snacks. She cursed Mark for her inability to function properly. He was insistent on keeping her well into the wee hours of the morning, surprising her again and again with his seemingly endless supply of energy and a sex drive that could rival any horny teenage boy.

And why did he have to be so goddamn hot and irresistible?

"It's just going to be a short visit," Sam assured her, as she found a parking spot near the back of the lot. "Just long enough to pop in and say hi."

"Remind me who we're going to see again?" Jess asked. "Which one of your many boyfriends?"

"His name is Nick," Sam replied as she killed the ignition. "Nick Stokes. And he's not my boyfriend. Never has been and never will be. We met at a forensics conference in Denver a few years ago and we've been keeping in contact ever since. Emails and what not."

"Is he hot?" Jess asked curiously.

"Extremely," Sam replied with a giggle.

"And you're honestly expecting me to believe that you and this Nick Stokes never…"

"Never," Sam insisted, and unclasped her seat belt. "Not that I don't find him insanely attractive or that I've never entertained the thought of there being something…it just never happened."

"Was there a possibility of it happening? Did you two ever…"

"Nothing ever happened between us. Other then an innocent kiss on the cheek at the airport when it came time to head home. Nick's just a very dear friend. Now there was this other guy that worked with him…"

"Now this sounds like it has the promise of something scandalous," the other woman said, rubbing her hands together excitedly.

"His name was Warrick. Warrick Brown. He was Nick's best friend. He was at the conference too. And we may or may not have gotten completely shit faced and we may or may not have made out in his hotel room just a little bit."

Jess' eyes widened.

"He backed out before anything too extreme could happen," Sam told her. "He said that while he was genuinely interested in me and attracted to me and that he was sorry that the guy I was with was a complete ass, he wasn't the type of guy to help me cheat. Said that when I got out of the situation I was in, to look him up in Vegas."

"And did you?"

"No. I never got the chance to. And when I finally did get up the balls to leave Zack and come to New York City and when I did start seriously considering getting in touch with Warrick…it was too late. He was murdered. Two years ago now."

"Jesus…" Jess breathed. "What happened?"

"He got mixed up in some crazy shit. Framed for a murder he didn't commit. And when the evidence did clear him, the sonofabitch who was really responsible killed him so that Warrick would never find out the truth. Apparently it was the Undersheriff."

"What?" Jess asked in disbelief. "But why…for what…how…?"

"I don't know. I don't know the ins and outs of it all. I just know the version of events that I was given. But I do know that he'd been married for a short time and went through a nasty ass divorce and then found out shortly before he died that his ex's baby was his. It's just…" Sam sighed heavily. "It's just a shame things ended the way they did. Or that he even went through such a rough patch. Warrick was a really, really nice guy."

"And God knows there's not enough of them around these days," Jess mused, as she unclipped her belt and then reached up to flip down the visor above her head. "I think you and I managed to snag the last two decent ones," she said, as she fluffed her luxurious dark locks and wiped wayward lipstick from the corners of her mouth.

Sam smiled and nodded in agreement. "There's something I actually need to ask you. About you and Donnie. And this is going to seem like it's coming way out of left field and that it's a really, really strange time to be even asking something like this…but it's been bugging my ass for the longest time and the way he was this morning and when we were…you know…I just really need to ask it."

"Okay…what do you mean by 'the way he was this morning'?" Jess asked, pushing the visor back up.

"Well it wasn't just this morning. It's all the time. And I was wondering if he's just like that with me or if he was like that with you…if it's just something he does 'cause it legitimately turns him on or if he does it 'cause…"

"Flack's a talker," Jess confirmed. "That's what you're talking about right? About his penchant for talking dirty while doing the deed?"

Sam nodded.

"And how he just loves to hear you tell him what you want him to do? Yeah…he was like that with me, too. Each and every time we slept together. From the very first time to the very last time. And he can be very…what's the word…determined. He'll persist and persist until you indulge him."

"I was starting to think that it was just me. That he was just doing it with me 'cause I'm not exactly the most experienced girl in the world."

"Well, maybe he does it more with you because of that. But he mostly does it because it turns him on to talk like that. And it turns him on even more to hear you talk like that."

"We haven't gotten that far yet," Sam said. "Not that I don't want to. Because it totally does something for me when he does it to me. And I've never, ever had a guy do that before. But when it comes time for me to talk like that? I just can't do it. I seriously don't know what to say. And I'm worried that whatever I do say will sound stupid and he'll laugh his ass off."

"Trust me, Sammie. Whatever you want to say? Say it. 'Cause it is going to be completely hot to him. My best advice? Lots of compliments about the size and the feel of his equipment is and detailed descriptions about what you want him to do with it."

"God…" Sam laid her elbows on the steering wheel and put her face in her hands. "I can't believe we're actually sitting here talking about this. Comparing notes practically!"

"Guys do it all the time. We're allowed to indulge in the proverbial locker talk too," Jess reasoned. "And I can just imagine that Flack's ears are just burning up right at this moment."

Sam giggled. "He'd throttle me if he knew I was talking about this kind of thing with you. Or die of embarrassment."

"Well…I guess it's a good thing that what he doesn't know, won't kill him," Jess declared.


This is definitely where I didn't expect to be on my vacation, Flack thought, as he paused alongside of the front entrance of the exclusive jewellery store on the promenade level of the Bellagio. He was nervous. Far beyond then he ever imagined he'd be. Once he stepped through those doors, he was less then ten feet away from dropping a ridiculous amount of money on a piece of jewellery. A piece of jewellery that signified the rest of his life and had him absolutely terrified at the thought of making a complete ass out of himself when it came time to, as Sam liked to put it, bust out his game.

The truth was, he had no game -horrific or otherwise- when it came to something so serious. There were no words that could possibly do what he was feeling justice. There was nothing that he could say that would truly express the depth of love that he felt for her. That could properly convey the way that she made him feel. He had tried -in vain- after she left to sit down with a pen and a pad of paper and write down exactly what he wanted to say to her. It was a moment that neither of them would forget. One he wanted to be perfect. And he was terrified of letting her down. Of not living up to that fantasy moment that she most likely had in her mind.

He'd been unable to come up with even the simplest sentence. For over and hour he'd sat on the couch, jotting two or three words down at a time and then scratching them out in frustration. Eventually he'd just given up and cracked open another beer. His heart was telling him to just go with the flow. To not think about it so much. That the proper words would just stream out of him when the time came to speak them.

To make matters worse, the one person he'd wanted to talk to about his decision to pop the question, had yet to return any of the six messages that he'd left on their voice mail. The one person that he trusted with the news and who he knew would be the best sounding board possible -not to mention completely honest about whether or not he was making a major fuck up- was seemingly missing in action.

Now or never, Flack thought, and taking a deep breath, released it slowly before reaching out for the handle on the jewellery store's front door. Now or never…you're going to walk in there and drop a few g's on a ring you're going to give to the woman you're going to spend the rest of your life with. This is some serious shit. Don't be such a goddamn pussy and just…

The shrill ring of his cell phone cut into his thoughts and Flack hurriedly unclipped it from the waist band of his jeans.

Thank Christ, he thought, and pressing talk, put the phone to his ear.

"About goddamn time Adam," he said in way of greeting.

"Sorry…" the lab tech quickly apologised. "I worked a double and a half and then I went home and Paisley was already there waiting for me 'cause she's got her own key now and it had been two days since we'd seen each other and when she goes even twelve hours without getting herself any she's a complete basket case. So you can just imagine what she was like the second I got in the door. A total tigress just pouncing on the big cat. I didn't even get the door locked before she was…"

Flack grimaced. "Adam…buddy…please spare me the x rated details, okay? The thought of you and Paisley doing the nasty? Just…just don't, alright?"

"Well I am just trying to get the point across that you are not the only one getting laid a lot lately. The social awkward lab rat is officially in the saddle. He's sowing his wild oats and taming that wild little filly. Know what I mean?"

"Adam…" Flack sighed heavily and shook his head. "Jesus Christ…"

"Get what I'm saying?" the younger man gave a chuckle. "See? How does it feel to hear stuff like that? How does it feel to know the details about someone's sex life? How you feel? It's a million times worse for me when I have to hear about you corrupting my sister!"

"I've learned my lesson." Flack assured him. "I'll spare you the details from now on if you'll just…if you'll just stop. Okay?"

"Deal," Adam agreed.

"But for the record I feel the need to add that it's your sister that does all the corrupting in this relationship."

"I always knew that sweet, angelic, girl next door thing she puts on was nothing but a bunch of crap…oh who the hell am I kidding? My sister's a raging bitch at best. Always has been, always will be. I really have to apologize for not warning you ahead of time for the suffering you're no doubt going through."

Flack laughed. "Trust me, Adam…Sam's probably the one ray of sunshine in my life."

"Well in that case, you must be living in the darkest, most desolate recesses of hell," Adam said. Then suddenly grew quiet. "She's not there, is she? Listening to this? 'Cause I quite value certain parts of my body in their proper locales."

"You're safe," Flack assured him. "She's out with Jess for the day. And I promise you that I won't breathe a word about any of this."

"Thank God," Adam breathed a sigh of relief. "'Cause between you and me? My sister? She terrifies me."

"You and me both, buddy. You and me both."

"So what's up?" the lab tech asked. "You were the last person I expected to be hearing from. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah…everything's fine. Everything's great actually. I just needed someone to talk to."

"And you chose me?" Adam sounded shocked at the mere thought.

"You were the best person to turn to," Flack reasoned. "It's about your sister."

"Okay…something bad or something good? She's not in any trouble is she? Like she's not going through some maniac stage that you can't handle on your own is she? She's not down and out and threatening to hurt herself is she?"

"What? No. Nothing like that. She's…"

"She's not pregnant, is she?" Horror registered in Adam's voice.

"Hell no. She's fine. Sammie is fine. We're having a great time here. She's relaxed and happy and she's great. It's just…I don't know how to say this. I don't even know exactly why I'm calling you to be honest."

"Has to be some reason," Adam concluded.

"There is. There is a reason. A huge one, actually. I just…I don't know exactly how to tell you about it."

"Spitting it out is usually the number one option I go for," the lab tech said. "So just take a deep breath and open your mouth and say exactly what it is you need to say. I mean, it can't be that bad, right? It can't be anything horrific or…"

"I'm going to ask your sister to marry me," Flack blurted out.

Silence emanated from the other end of the phone.

"Adam?" Flack asked nervously. "Are you…?"

"Yeah…yeah…I'm here…but I think there's something wrong with my phone. I would have sworn you just said you were going to ask my sister to marry you."

"That is exactly what I said," Flack confirmed.

Again silence.

"Adam…buddy…don't do this to me…say something…anything…"

"You want to marry my sister?" the lab tech sounded dumbfounded.

"I do."

"Are you sure? Like seriously, are you sure? 'Cause I know what my sister is like and this isn't something you should be taking too lightly. I love Sammie and I'd do anything for her and you know that, but I lived with her for more than half of my life and I know what she can be like and I don't know if even you can deal with that. I mean, I'm not underestimating or second guessing your manliness or anything like that and I'm definitely not saying that you shouldn't do it, but…."

"I love your sister," Flack said. "More than I ever thought I could ever love another human being. And I want to marry her. I want her to be my wife. The mother of my children. And I wanted to call you and…I don't know why I called you. To get your blessing maybe? Old fashioned, I know. And definitely out of character for me…"

"Totally OOC," Adam agreed.

"OOC? What…"

"Out of character. They use it a lot in fan fiction."

"In what?" Flack asked.

"Fan fiction. All kinds of websites devoted to the stuff. Where people write stories based on their favourite television shows, movies. Create these completely different worlds for them, integrate their own OCs."

"Their what?"

"OCs. Original characters. They make a character up and introduce them into the fold so to speak."

"And you know this because…"

"Because I read a lot of the stuff. Star Trek and Star Wars mostly. If you want I could send the links to some of my favourites to you in an email and…"

"It's okay," Flack told him. "Trust me, it's okay. I just…this is serious Adam. I'm talking about your sister and you're talking about fan fiction for Christsakes. I want to marry, Sammie. I'm going to ask her to marry me. And I called you because…well I guess I called you to really apologize for the shitty way I've treated you over the years and to let you know that I'm a good guy. That I'm a damn good guy and I'm going to treat your sister right. And if I ever fuck up you've got my permission to kick my ass. I just want to marry her, Adam. I love her and I…"

"Where are you right now?" Adam asked.

"What does it matter where I am? I'm…"

"Just tell me where you are," the lab tech insisted.

"I'm in front of the jewellery store in the Bellagio shitting my pants. Why?"

"'Cause I'm probably the person that knows my sister best. And you don't want to be dropping crazy money on something she doesn't like. You want to make sure you pick something that she's going to love, right?"

"Of course I do. But…"

"White or tri-colour gold," Adam told him. "She's a big fan of solitaire stones. Either brilliant or cushion cut. She doesn't have a problem with princess either, but whatever you do, do not buy her marquise, pear or anything shaped like a heart. Okay?"

Flack grinned. "Gotcha…so I guess this means that you're okay with this? That you're on board with the whole thing?" he asked.

"What it means is that I know you'll make my sister happy and love her to the ends of the earth," Adam replied. "And I also know that she loves you and that you came into her life when she needed someone the most. And that kind of happiness…I can't stand in her way of having that."

"Thanks Adam. You know I'll treat her right. You know that there's nothing I wouldn't do for her."

"I know…and you know that I will definitely hand you your ass if you ever hurt her. No one fucks with my sister."

"I hear you loud and clear. Look, I better get in there. Get this done. Sooner I do it, the sooner it's over."

"You'll do fine," Adam said. "Just follow your heart, Don. Speak from it. You do that and it's all gravy, baby."

"Now whose being totally OOC?" Flack teased.

"We all have our moments," the younger man laughed. "Thanks for calling. It means a lot. That you respect my sister and me that much. And good luck."

"Thanks," Flack said, and went to disconnect the call.

"Hey, Don!" the lab tech called to him.

"Yeah?"

"Welcome to the family," Adam said. "It's going to be one hell of a wild ass ride."

Flack smiled.

He was looking forward to it.


Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even the lurkers! Please R and R folks! I love hearing from you guys!

Special thanks to:

Hope4sall

Afrozenheart412

CSINYMinute

wolfeylady

Xsamilicousx

Madison Bellows

Soccer-bitch

Delko's Girl 88